


Ill Tidings

by CaptainDeryn



Category: The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: F/M, holiday fic meets mystery, wholesome relationship content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDeryn/pseuds/CaptainDeryn
Summary: After a snowstorm sends Wulfwryn and Raenor into Winter-home, they find themselves in the middle of Yule festivities. As they start to explore the festival and the town, they find something sinister lurking beneath the cheer.
Relationships: male elf/female human - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Ill Tidings

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Kunstpause and Anchanted_One for beta'ing this fic!

One wrong turn had blown Wulfwryn and Raenor completely off course. In the unexpected, snowy thrall of two Yule’s storms they must have taken a right instead of a left, or perhaps a left instead of a right, as the area around them was completely foreign to them both. 

A valley rose high around them the further they trotted down the path, their horse’s breath fogging the cold air. They had ridden since dawn. It was still dark when they had begun to see threats in the shadows dancing around their fire. In front of them a town was coming into view, its stone walls snow coated and the sounds of life bustling pouring from within.

“ _ Meldanya, _ ” Raenor said, bringing their horse down to a walk. Wulfwryn wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, pressing closer so she could catch his words before the wind snatched them, “I’m afraid I have no idea where we are.” 

Craning to see around his shoulder, gripping his hips so she didn’t slide off the back of the horse, Wulfwryn tried to find something that she recognized in the facade of the buildings, in the way the gates were flung wide open or in the way the snow drifted down around them. “No, we’re quite lost. Whatever’s going on here though...it looks peaceful enough.” 

In fact, it sounded downright festive. The closer they rode, the more she could pick out strains of music, the joyful sound of people laughing and clapping. Rising above the stone walls she could now see banners fluttering, pale blue patterned with careful stitches of white. It looked similar to the sort of Yule decorations she had seen around Bree one of the first times she had ridden into the city in midwinter. There, at least, she knew that they had picked up the habit from the Shire-folk.

“Perhaps it’s some manner of Yule festival.” Tapping Raenor’s shoulder, she gestured towards a small hobbit woman huddled by a burning fire pit near the gate, “She may know.” 

She slipped down from their horse first, the long time riding behind the saddle and the hard packed snow sending aches up her legs when she landed. Trying to shake out the complaints in her legs, she hobbled over to the little woman, hearing Raenor thump down with a muffled curse in elvish behind her.

Clearing her throat, she reached out to tap the woman’s shoulder, “Excuse me, madame?” 

“Oh, that is so formal!” The hobbit lass turned around, her face flushed with the craning up to look at Wulfwryn, “What can I do for you, sweetling?” 

With a respect grained deep within her after aiding the hobbits throughout Breeland, she dropped to a knee, bringing herself eye to eye with the woman, 

“My...my uhm…” she looked at Raenor, considering deeply what she wanted to call him, and in her loss for words Raenor offered her an amused smile before filling her silence.

“We took a wrong turn and have stumbled upon this town. We were wondering exactly what’s going on.” 

The hobbit woman near leapt several feet in the air with excitement, snow puffing up from beneath her boots as she hopped up and down and clapped. Her celebration brought her close enough to the firepit that Wulfwryn’s hands nearly jumped to pull her back when the breeze threw her cloak close to the flames, “Oh it has been  _ so  _ long since people have  _ earnestly  _ come to our festival! Do you wish to stick around, perhaps celebrate?”

The sounds of the festival were rather alluring behind her, the sounds of winter happiness a siren’s call against the dreary, cold, routine of traveling that she and Raenor had fallen into. It would be so easy to slip into a bit of relaxation and they were a few days ahead of their traveling schedule... 

“Well…” she hummed, an internal battle between guilt over taking a break and the desperate urge to relax waging in her mind, until Raenor nudged her shoulder with his leg. Blinking, she spared another glance up at him just in time to catch a small, hopeful nod, “We’d love to get involved.” 

It seemed like nothing could make the young hobbit happier and she clapped her gloved hands together again, “Perfect! Welcome to Winter-Home’s annual Yule festival. Where better to celebrate but here, surrounded by snow and mountains.” The girl sighed dreamily before leaping back into her explanation with enthusiasm. “The Mayor of this town puts on this celebration, I just direct newcomers and make sure everything stays running.” Her smile faltered slightly but before Wulfwryn could question it, the hobbit was smacking a hand to her forehead, her cheeks flushing with more than just the cold, 

“I’ve yet to introduce myself. I’m sorry! I’m Mara Sandydowns, it’s my pleasure to meet and tell you all you want to know.” 

With a soft brush of Raenor’s shoulder against hers, he too crouched beside Wulfwryn. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I’m Raenor and this is Wulfwryn,” he gestured over to her with a quirk of his lips, endeared just as she was by the excitement diffusing through the air, “Do you have any recommendations on where we start?” 

From somewhere within her cloak, Mara whipped out a map, it’s surface worn and thin along the edges and etched out with paths and ‘x’s marked in red, “Well this is Winter-home, there are a lot of people you should talk to, they’ll tell you all about the activities that they run and it’s a nice tour of the town to boot! The mayor and his wife also love to talk to newcomers. But first,” she looked them both up and down, “You need some winter clothes, you must be  _ freezing _ .” 

“No, no, no,” they both scrambled to insist at the same time. Their winter clothes were worn yes, and truly it was cold where they were currently, but they didn’t  _ need _ anything. While Raenor said, 

“Truly we’re alright,”

Wulfwryn said at the same time, “We don’t need anything,” 

Their protests did them no good as Mara went fishing around in her cloak once more and with a bright smile pressed a little pouch wrapped with the map into Wulfwrynwryn’s hands. “It’s the season for gifts after all, the merchants over there will be more than willing to help you.” 

“I-- thank you,” Wulfwryn managed, peeking inside the pouch. Small grey coins rattled inside; she noticed they were emblazoned with a snowflake on both sides when she took one between her thumb and forefinger, “I’ve never seen currency like this.” 

“That’s because they’re unique to here.” While coming from anyone else the tone may have been condescending, Mara was patient and bubbly, “The mayor has them specially pressed for the festival every year.” 

Raenor picked the coin from between Wulfwryn’s fingers, inspecting it curiously. Dropping it from palm to palm, he raised a brow at Mara, “The mayor really takes this festival seriously.” 

For a brief moment the shadow muted Mara’s vibrance again in the smallest downward curl of her lips. Her voice subdued when she said, “You don’t know the half of it.” before she brightened once more and ushered them off, “But go! Enjoy! I’ll be waiting here when you finish your tour.” 

“Thank you,” Raenor was the first to rise to his feet, holding his hand out for Wulfwryn. Shifting her eyes between the tokens and the hobbit, it took a moment before she nodded and accepted Raenor’s hand. 

“You have our thanks, kind hobbit.” 

Mara giggled, shooing them away, “So formal. Let loose and enjoy the season.” 

Wrapping the reins of their horse in her hands, Wulfwryn turned towards the alcove that Mara had ushered them towards. Pressing shoulder to shoulder with Raenor, she tilted her head towards his so that she could keep her voice low, “Does something feel off to you?” 

His hand settling warmly against her lower back, she felt Raenor’s words more than heard them as his breath whispered across her neck, “Oh certainly. But keep it quiet for now.” 

“Travelers!” A vendor, scrunched behind his wooden booth stacked with boxes waved them over. Despite the layers of thick wool and leather that he wore, the poor man looked frozen to the bone. “Did Mara Sandydowns send you over by chance?” 

His voice was hopeful, as if he wasn’t getting as much business as he would have hoped. Did most other patrons come prepared with their winter weather gear? Wulfwryn supposed that not many people took wrong turns to end up in Winter-home. 

“She did, yes.” Wulfwryn held out the pouch of tokens with a shrug, “Rather insisted actually, and gave us these.” 

“Ah,” the vendor rocked up from his chair, meeting Wulfwryn at the front to pluck the pouch from her hand. He dumped the tokens into his hand, counting them off back into the pouch. “That Mara is never off in her numbers--let me see what I have for you.” 

From then on, they became models meant to be observed and measured in the vendor’s eyes as he picked through the racks of garments hanging behind him under an overhanging canvas-cloth and through boxes behind his stall. Ever so often he would hold up some article of clothing to them, shake his head, and stuff it haphazardly back with no explanation. In fact, the only words spoken to them were through half mumbled commentary. 

“ _ Ack  _ too narrow, not many women built for battle here,” directed towards Wulfwryn after her shoulders proved to be too broad for another delicate dress--the fact that she had very nearly curled her lip at the frilly garment going unacknowledged. 

To Raenor, the poor man’s mustache began to quiver in frustration every time the trousers he suggested came up too short at the ankles, he exclaimed, “ _ Elves _ !” and nothing else. Raenor’s brows rose, his elbow finding Wulfwryn’s side during her half indignant, half amused snort. 

“Don’t antagonize him,” Raenor murmured, though a grin was fighting to cross his lips, “He’ll let us freeze.” 

Wulfwryn rolled her eyes, feigning innocence. Not more than a second later she leaned close to him, dropping her voice and muttering in a vehement approximation of the vendor’s exclamation, “ _ Elves _ . Always the peacemakers. Tall bastards, too.” 

The elf was barely able to muffle his laugh under the guise of a cough, his eyes twinkling, “Never thought you to be one to complain about that,  _ meldanya _ .” 

Her grin turned rakish, drawing her lower lip slightly between her teeth, “Oh I’m not. In fact it’s--” 

The vendor started back towards them with several things draped over his arm and Wulfwryn snapped her mouth shut, swallowing whatever it was she was going to say. The look she sent him didn’t leave him guessing for much and he flashed a grin that he had been fighting through at her. 

“I think these should be your best fit. Hold out your arms.” When they both compiled he began to divide the load in his arms between the two of them. A heavy overshirt or tunic for the both of them, a pair of boots and gloves each. A cloak and thick fur mantle for Raenor, a woolen scarf for Wulfwryn. When all of the clothing had been transferred from him to them, the vendor stepped back, brushing his hands together, “That should keep the both of you set for this weather. Thank you for your business.” 

“This seems like far more than we paid for.” Raenor was looked down at the pile in his arms, eyes wide, “We can’t possibly--” 

The vendor was already shaking his head, “Oh no, no,  _ please  _ take it. The more I sell the happier--well, the happier I’ll be.” he smiled, though it was superficial, waving them off, “The Carol Bells Inn is just around the corner, the innkeep there will be more than happy to let you change there.” 

Sharing a confused look, Raenor and Wulfwryn both gave tiny lifts of their shoulders. They didn’t have any more tokens to give the man and though undercompensating him wasn’t sitting well with either of them, he didn’t seem like the sort of man open to negotiation. 

“Alright,” Wulfwryn was the first to agree reluctantly, “Thank you for your kindness, ser.” 

He waved them off, slipping back behind his booth. Looking over the bannister overlooking the courtyard below, he gave them a little nod, “It’s no trouble, now be on your way. Enjoy the festivities.” 

“We will try.” Raenor said with a wave before adjusting his hold on his clothes and following Wulfwryn as she turned around, horse in tow. As soon as they were out of earshot he bent over enough to whisper, “That was very strange.” 

Her brows were drawn together tight in a disgruntled expression he had seen her wear whenever odd problems surfaced, her lips pursing. “It was. I don’t know a single vendor--outside of the ones I’ve known for years--that give up their goods while short payment.” 

“The idea of us giving him inventory back was almost frightening to him,” he agreed, looking around the people that they passed. Patrons were making merriment, smiling and spilling drinks in turn, but those running the celebrations held themselves with a forced liveliness, as if they had a sword point at the small of their back telling them what to do, “I don’t understand what’s going on here.” 

The Carol Bells Inn appeared to their left, the pretty sign painted with frosted flowers half obscured by the snow resting on top of it. As they approached the inn a young girl appeared from the stables set back into an indention between buildings, holding out a hopeful hand for their horse. Hay was sticking out of her twin braids, her clothes smelling of horse and mash. 

“I can take your horse for you,” she offered, her words lisping from between two missing front teeth. She couldn’t have been older than seven. “The roads aren’t the best to lead horses through. The mayor says they leave too much waste.” 

“The mayor…” Wulfwryn repeated, eyes narrowing. Raenor could see puzzle pieces falling together in her head, her expression starting to darken, and he nudged her shoulder lightly. She glanced up just in time to catch the slight shake of his head and with a sigh that he felt in her shoulder rising against his, she handed over the reigns of their horse with a forced smile, “That would be lovely darling, thank you.” 

The little girl beamed at them, leading their horse back into the stable and Wulfwryn made a soft noise of frustration, “What the  _ hell _ , everyone’s walking on eggshells here.” 

A hobbit man in innworker’s attire had clambered up on a stack of delivery boxes and was aiming a broom at the sign, trying to whack the snow from it. 

“Excuse me,” Raenor cleared his throat, nearly startling the hobbit from his stack of crates, “Oh! I’m sorry, I was just wondering if you need help.” 

The hobbit’s eyes widened and he was quick to stumble from his boxes, “Welcome patrons,  _ ahem _ , I’m quite alright, thank you though.” 

“We aren’t patrons,” Wulfwryn was quick to say, “We were just passing through and got pulled in.” 

Raising an eyebrow, eyes roaming over the bundles in their arms, the hobbit didn’t seem convinced. He hummed in some unconvinced agreement, hefting his broom back onto his shoulder, “Well then I’m sure Jesa will be more than willing to set you up with a room.” 

“May I help you in turn?” Wulfwryn held out her hand, wiggling her fingers for the broom with a small smile, “In the spirit of the holidays?” 

For a moment the hobbit wavered, clutching the broom tightly to his chest before he sighed, holding it out, “Please.” 

“Of course.” Wulfwryn took the broom, hopping up on the boxes with an arm stuck out to balance herself, and tapped the sign until the snow fell off it completely. When she hopped down, holding the broomback out , she did so with a smile, “There you go. Oh and we don’t need a room, just a place to change.” 

For the first time the hobbit smiled, wide and bright in his rosy cheeks, and he gave Wulfwryn a little popping bow, “Thank you kindly. I’ll let Jesa know to not charge you.” 

He opened the door for them, holding it until Wulfwryn took hold of it.

“That isn’t…” she started to say, but the hobbit was already gone. She sighed, “...necessary. Do we have enough coin to tip, Raenor?” 

When she glanced up at him, his expression was odd enough to give her pause, “...Raenor?” 

Blinking as if coming out of some inner thoughts, he smiled and tapped the pouch on his belt that stored their money, “We have enough. It’s just...even with whatever they have hanging over them, these people are so giving.” He looked over at her, and in his expression she was reminded of the years that had passed him by, the things he had seen that she had only heard through blood-soaked stories. “It’s curious.” 

Reaching out, she wrapped her hand in his. “Let’s go inside,” she said. “And then we can explore a little bit?” 

She propped the door open with her hip, nodding at him to go in. As he slipped past her, knocking the snow from his boots on the welcome mat inside, he let his hand brush and linger on her waist,

“Sleuth,” he murmured with a chuckle, ducking down to press a kiss to her cheek so he could add in her ear, “You want to sleuth information.” 

Her shrug was languid, the look thrown at him filled with enough mischief to challenge the most problematic child. “Whichever word is prettier for finding information.” 

The inn was filled with the heat from two brightly burning hearths at either end of a small main area. A sweeping iron chandelier provided light to the corners that the firelight didn’t reach and patrons were scattered about at the round tables, with mittens and hats piled in front of the fires. 

Whatever reprimand Raenor might have come up with to curb her idea of finding information was cut off when the innkeep, a young woman flushed with the heat from the hearths, scurried over from between two tables. She threw a ragged towel over her shoulder, brushing her hands together, “You two must be the ones that Madoc told me about. Thank you for your help--the mayor doesn’t like the snow obscuring business.” 

It was enough of an opening for Wulfwryn to leap on, her eyes alighting, and she said conversationally, “I’ve heard a lot about this mayor... he seems to have a lot of opinions.” 

The innkeeper's eyes widened, darting to the door behind Wulfwryn and then to the patrons, “It really isn’t my place to say.” she said quickly. “The mayor simply likes his festivals to go off without a hitch. They’re all Frostbluff’s really known for, you see.” 

“Yes but we’ve--” Wulfwryn blinked as a look of stern warning crossed the innkeeper's face. 

“You’re wanting a temporary room to change, yes?” she interrupted forcefully, “Perhaps a day room?” 

The desire for answers just out of reach was written all across Wulfwryn’s face and already she seemed close to flipping the topic once again. Sliding in before she could do just that, Raenor agreed with the barkeep, “That sounds just right, thank you.” 

Meeting Wulfwryn’s indignant look with a carefully passive one, he drew her along as the innkeep led them to an unoccupied room. It was quaint, the bed neatly made and a fire burning low in the hearth. It was just enough room for them to change and warm up, and escape to if they tired of the festivities throughout the day. 

Turning to face Wulfwryn, he raised his eyebrows at her, “ _ Meldanya,  _ answers don’t always come immediately.” 

Rolling her eyes, Wulfwryn turned a halfhearted glare at him as she knotted her hands together with a shiver, “They obviously have something they want to say. But something is stopping them.” 

Raenor took her hands in his own, pulling her gloves off and bringing them up to his mouth, blowing warm breath across her cold skin. Wrapping his fingers over hers, he gave a gentle tug until their lips met. 

She relaxed into his kiss with a soft sigh, her hands curling over his. 

“There are probably higher stakes than being stubborn,” he reminded her, to which she snorted. 

“I know.” Letting her arms slide from his arms to around his waist, she made a frustrated noise, “There’s something  _ off  _ here. I want to figure out what it is.” 

Pressing one last kiss to her forehead, Raenor hummed softly in agreement, “Let’s talk to the townsfolk like Mara suggested. Perhaps they’ll be willing to help us piece things together.” 

Wulfwryn pulled back after a blissful moment, patting the clothing he’d tucked against his chest, “Then I suppose we should at least look the part, hm?” 

Letting the clothes drop on the bed, Raenor began separating them back into who they belonged to. It would be quick to change into warmer clothes and hopefully the townsfolk would be able to shed some light on what was going on behind Winter-home’s festive exterior. 

After all, Raenor thought as he glanced out the window, it could never be as simple as a celebration for him and Wulfwryn. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try and update this fic every Thursday/Friday or every other Thursday/Friday!


End file.
